


White Rabbit

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-05-21 09:10:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6045987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're a fledgling hunter, placed in charge of Crowley while the Winchesters go on a hunt. After a hard New Years Eve, you take an opportunity to drink with the King of Hell. Things get a bit out of your control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Happy New Year

You really liked the bunker. It was definitely better than the studio apartment you'd shared with your husband until 6 months ago. Even if that place hadn't been ridiculously small, it was stuffed with bad memories. Memories of the demon possessing your husband torturing you. Sam and Dean had saved you, your husband sadly dying in the process, and you'd begged them for a chance to join the life. They had agreed and said the best place for you was the bunker.

They had slowly begun the arduous task of teaching you to hunt, but they didn't trust you in the field yet. So, you were tasked with babysitting Crowley and Kevin. Kevin mostly kept to himself, which wasn't a problem for you, but then there was Crowley. Crowley made things difficult, complained about everything, knocked things over 'on accident'. You were sure that it was an attempt to pretend that he had some manner of control over his life, but just came across as annoying.

You checked your make-up and hair, carefully making sure your headpiece was on correctly, then you put a long black trench coat on and double checked that you were completely covered. Feed the King of Hell, then you'd be free to go to the New Years Eve party in Wichita, where you'd hopefully meet a guy. You weren't looking to get laid, not immediately anyway. One night stands were not your thing, which is why you hadn't had sex since your husband died.

You were looking for a sweet guy that you could lie to, date for a while, pretend to be normal with. Then, let him scratch the itch that your toys weren't properly scratching anymore.

Your white high heels clicked on the floor of the dungeon as you walked up with Crowley's peanut butter and jelly on wheat. Crowley's eyes shot up at the sound.

"Are we taking fashion advice from Castiel, now?" He asked.

"What?"

"The coat, darling. Not yer normal."

You looked down. "I'm going to a party. I didn't want your Majesty's unsolicited opinion of my outfit."

"What sort of party? Based on your choice of headgear, I'm going to assume a plushy party. Or maybe furry lite."

"It's a theme New Years party." You said, putting his sandwich on a small table next to his chair.

"And what's the theme? Zoophilia?"

You rolled your eyes as you pulled out the keys to unlock one of his wrists. "Alice in Wonderland, jackass. There's gonna be 2 dozen Alices. I went for something different."

"Oh. Slutty White Rabbit. Unique. How long did it take you to find that?"

"I made it. Couldn't find one I liked, so I made it myself."

Crowley reached over and picked up half of the sandwich. "Well, now, you have to show me. You need to have an honest opinion of your hard work."

"'Honest' is not a word I'd use to describe you, Crowley."

He smirked at you. "Come on, sweetheart. Let me see. I won't be a jerk. Promise."

You sighed and stepped back several feet. An opinion before your 2 1/2 hour drive might be helpful. You pulled the waist tie and opened the jacket, pulling the coat off and spinning once so Crowley could see the whole outfit. The costume was fairly simple. 3 inch white high heels, white tights, a tight white pencil skirt with a bunny tail attached, a white blouse, a grey suit vest and a headband with 2 white bunny ears. Your favorite part of the costume was the clock. Instead of the obvious pocket watch, you had attached a gold chain to a golden alarm clock. The face of the clock had been altered so that instead of numbers, there were math equations, a reference to the real story behind the novel.

Crowley stared, a little too long for your liking, so you began to put the coat back on. "Not what I was expecting." He muttered. "You are tryin' to catch a very specific type of man with that costume, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You've got ridiculously high standards fer a hunter, you know that?"

You hated when he answered questions with questions. "Guess I haven't been in 'the life' long enough to embrace the whole 'any port in a storm' mentality."

"Well, you're not going to find any port in that. Not in Kansas."

You scoffed at him as he took a bite of his sandwich. "Finish your food so I can get out of here. I'd like to be at the party for a couple of hours before the ball drops."

"That outfit is to attract a man of intelligence, someone who'd look at a room full of slutty Alices and choose the completely clothed rabbit with the maths jokes on her watch. You won't find that easily, luv."

You sighed, pulling the coat closed and knotting the tie. "You could've just said the costume sucked, Crowley."

"It doesn't. It looks great on you and it's classy." He said, setting the sandwich down and leaning forward as much as his collar would allow. "But human men are idiots. They don't care about class, luv. They care about ass, and you aren't showin' any. The kind of man you want isn't going to be alone at a fancy dress party on New Years Eve. That party will be full of men like Dean Winchester. Which is not what you want, or you would've thrown yourself at Squirrel months ago; about the time your shoulders started to tense."

You stood up straight, suddenly very aware of said tension. You placed a fake smile on your face and leaned over to click his wrist back into the manacle. "Thanks for the advice, but I'm not quite ready to give up and become like the Winchesters."

"I could help you with that tension, darling. I'm a great masseuse. Magic fingers."

"Yeah, I don't think that's ever gonna happen, Crowley. Evil's not really my type, dude."

"You've never had evil, luv. How would you know?"

You let out a scoff. The King of Hell was flirting with you? Could he be more blatant in his escape plans? "Have a nice night, Crowley." You said, grabbing the plate next to him and walking toward the door.

*******************************************

7 hours later, you were parking your car back in the bunker garage. Your shoes were in one of your hands, a bottle of champagne in the other hand and a bottle of scotch under your arm; you'd left your headpiece in the car.

Kevin was sitting at the table in the war room as you walked in. He was on his laptop, researching something for the guys. You placed the champagne next to his computer as you walked by. "Happy New Year, Kev."

"Um, I don't..."

"Live a little. It's New Years." You said, walking toward the kitchen. You placed your shoes on the counter and grabbed a cup. You grasped the cork from the top of the scotch bottle and wrestled it out. You poured a drink and sipped it. You sighed as you stared at the bottle. Tonight was a night to get drunk on the good stuff, because the King of Hell had been right. Not a single worthy guy had given you a second look. You hadn't even stayed for the ball drop. After an hour and a half of striking out, you'd decided that being in that room when everyone started making out at midnight was a fate worse than death.

As you finished your scotch, your mind fell to Crowley. Crowley, who knew the human condition better than most who were actually still human. The demon King of Hell, who'd said you weren't going to find a guy at the party, because 'human men are idiots'. 'Human men', like he's not an idiot?

You grabbed a second glass from the cabinet, picked up the bottle and your own glass and walked to the dungeon. Crowley's eyes shot up in surprise as you walked in, kicking the door closed with a white tight-covered foot.

"No takers, luv?" He asked.

You placed the cups on his table and poured a little into each. "Well, I had 2 guys invite me to three-ways with their girlfriends, one guy with a tan line on his left ring finger, and 5, count 'em 5, guys who didn't even ask my name before they started in on the sexually explicit language. I left around eleven, but not before liberating some alcohol from the hosts' bar. It's not the rare shit you're used to, but I figure a Macallan 18 is better than a Jack Daniels anything." You pulled the keys out of your jacket pocket as your spoke, opening his wrist shackle to let his right hand grab a glass.

Crowley sipped the scotch, his hazel eyes following you as you pulled up a chair. You pulled your coat off and threw it at the wall, before sitting down in front of him. "You're right. It's not as good as Craig. But I can't complain. I'm havin' a scotch with a beautiful woman." You rolled your eyes, sipping at your own drink. "You don't seem to believe me, _Y/N_."

It was weird to hear your name on his lips. You were sure he'd never said it before and it sent an unintended thrill through you. You poured yourself another drink, filling the glass halfway instead of the splashes you'd been pouring. "Believe I'm beautiful? Yeah, I do. Believe the King of Hell appreciates my beauty and isn't just angling for an opportunity to escape and rush back home and put an end to Abbadon's rebellion? Not a chance."

"Why do you think you're in here with me, then, luv?"

"I don't know." You answered, before gulping down some of the Macallan.

"Do you want to know?" He set his glass on the table and stared directly into your _e/c_ eyes. "You're intrigued. Because how in the world could I know you so well to pick out your intentions from your costume? How could I know that there wouldn't be an available man of adequate intelligence at that party? How could I know that you wear your sexual frustration in your shoulders? And who would it really hurt to let a demon who adheres to your rigorous standards make that tension disappear?"

You leaned forward, your right foot hooking the front leg of the chair. "It would hurt me, Crowley. It would hurt my standing with Sam and Dean and Kevin, all the people I care about who you've hurt."

"Why would they ever have to know? There's no cameras in here and it's not like the boy prophet is going to walk in on us. For some reason, he avoids me like the plague."

"It might have something to do with his mom. Or the fact that you might have actually had the plague at one point."

Crowley chuckled. "Lived through that without so much as a fever. My mum was a witch, kept the sickness away."

"Well, a 17th century witch. No wonder you ended up a demon."

"Pretty much inevitable. Just like you and I, pet."

You smiled around your glass as you took another sip. "I wish I had your confidence. Chained to a chair in a dungeon in a giant Devil's Trap, which is only a slight improvement from the trunk that they had you in before... and you still think you have enough sex appeal to get the attention of a hunter whose husband was possessed by a demon, who tried to kill her."

"I didn't order that."

"You didn't have to. That's what you twisted souls do. I mean, right? That's what Lucifer created you for, right?"

"Right. Among other things."

You stood, quickly, your curiosity and desire for conversation suddenly leaving you. You grabbed your chair and dragged it next to the door, where you'd gotten it, before grabbing the keys from your jacket on the floor and heading back to lock him down again. As you reached forward to grab his wrist, his hand clamped down on yours, pulling you forward. Your tights slipped on the hardwood floor, and you spun slightly. You landed hard into his lap, his free arm wrapping tightly around your waist holding you in place. You quickly tossed the keys from your hand, attempting to get them as far away from him as possible.

"Clever girl." He whispered, his lips brushing the top curve of your ear. "But I can do this one handed."

You opened your mouth to scream, but his hold on you tightened. "Before you scream, sweetheart, realize that I could easily snap your neck from our current position. You'd be dead before Kevin made it out of his room." His arm loosened it's hold as you closed your mouth. "Now, I'm not planning to hurt you. So, just relax."

"You just threatened to snap my neck." You whispered, nervously. "You want me to relax?"

"Don't move. Don't make a sound. And everything will be fine, right?"

"Okay." You whispered.

Crowley's hand moved up from your waist, stopping at each of the buttons of your vest and popping them open. You fought to stay still as every button of your blouse came undone, next. You closed your eyes as his teeth began to scrape the soft skin of your neck. He pulled your blouse out from the waistband of your skirt and ran his hand back up to your breasts. He cupped one through your white lace bra, eliciting a gasp from you. You cursed the tension in your shoulders, the symbol of your sexual frustrations, as you felt your nipple harden under his palm and a surge of heat rushed between your legs. It had been too long since you'd been touched and now, your body was happy to respond.

You didn't notice your breathing was getting heavy until Crowley's hand moved torturous slow down to waistband of your skirt. His hand slipped easily under the layers of your skirt, your tights and your panties to slide between your folds and lightly rub against your clit.

"Oh, my god!" You squeaked loudly, as he changed the position of his arm, allowing two of his fingers to slip inside of you.

His teeth came down on the soft skin where your shoulder met your neck, hard enough to make you cry out. His hand kept up it's work, pumping into you as the heel of his palm rubbed against your clit. "Is 'quiet' too difficult for you, _Y/N_?" He whispered in your ear. "What would Kevin think if he came in here, right now? Hearing you cry out, scared that I'm hurting you, he's going to run in to see you in my lap, your whole body flush with desire for me, being finger fucked by the demon who killed his mother. You think he'd ever trust you again?"

You shook your head, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. "Good girl." You could hear the smirk in his voice and it pissed you off, but then his thumb began to massage your bundle of nerves and you forgot your anger. You put your hand in your mouth, biting down on it as his fingers brought you over the edge. He pulled his hand back, loudly sucking your juices from his fingers, before pushing you from his lap to hit the floor. He slipped his hand back into the shackle as you stared up at him.

You scrambled to your feet, holding your blouse closed. You felt confused as you lurched forward to close the padlock on his wrist. You grabbed the bottle of scotch and ran for your coat, scooping up the keys on your way to the door.


	2. Experience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definite non-con stuff happening here. But the main event is fully consented to and deeply enjoyed.
> 
> So, you know... Enjoy.

Three days passed before the Winchesters returned to the bunker. Three days of hiding in your room, avoiding eye contact with Kevin and completely avoiding the devil's trap room holding the King of Hell.

You ran forward, smiling. "Hey, welcome back! How was the hunt?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. You weren't normally so grateful to see them. "Uh, it was good. Shifters, you know? Assholes. You okay?"

"Just, you know, stir crazy. Grateful to have someone to hand over Crowley duty to." It wasn't a lie. "Hey, so, while you were gone, one of your extra cells rang. I picked it up. It was a hunter named Derrick. He was on a salt and burn in Texas when he got a call saying his mom is in the hospital. He had to cut and run. He texted me all the info, it's really standard... Can I take it?"

Dean looked over to Sam, who shrugged. "Hunting by yourself isn't exactly..."

"Dean, please!" You begged, an edge on your voice. "I can't... There is almost no way I could fuck this up. Derrick did all the leg work. I literally just have to drive to Texas and go to this cemetery, dig up, salt and burn a body. He did everything else. Please. I need the fresh air."

Dean sighed. "You let me inspect your pack, make sure you have everything you might need, before you go. And you call when you get there, and call after you've finished. Okay?"

"Awesome! Thank you!" You said, before running towards your room. You'd packed a bag as soon as the call came in, but you opened it to double check that everything you might possibly need for a salt and burn was in the bag. When you finally walked out, one bag with several outfits and one with all the supplies you needed, you dropped one in front of Dean.

"So, Kevin said you were drinking with Crowley." Dean said, unzipping the bag and rifling through it.

"I had some scotch with him. I was only in there for, like, 20 minutes." You said, trying to hide your discomfort.

"What'd he say to you? 'Cause Kev said you've been acting weird since New Year's Eve."

You swallowed, hard, as Dean pulled out an iron crowbar from the bottom of your bag. "Typical Crowley shit. He talked about Kevin's mom, then we got on to my husband. It... I just didn't want to deal with him, anymore. You're not gonna keep me from this hunt just because I had a drink with the King of Hell on New Year's, are you?"

Dean looked up from your bag, putting the crowbar back in before zipping it. "No. Just... remember who he is, okay? He's not one of us. He's not a friend, or someone you should share a drink with, understand?"

"I know. He's evil. I, honestly, can't even tell you why I thought it would be a good idea to drink with him. I just... guess I didn't want to start the year alone. It won't happen again. Promise."

"Right. You're good here. It's a good pack. You got everything you need." Dean said, handing your bag back. "You call when you get there and when you get done."

"I remember." You said, before nodding. "I'll be fine."

"You better be. You get ganked by a ghost on your first hunt, you won't ever live that down, not even upstairs."

"Understood, Dean." You said, with a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The travel was the hardest part. 8 hours in a car, and not Dean's cool Chevy, no, you got to drive the small black Saturn SUV that your husband had insisted on buying in your second year of marriage. You found the cemetery, dug up the body, poured an entire box of salt onto it and lit it up like a disgusting bonfire. It was easy. Unfortunately, that meant that you were going to have to go back to the bunker. You pretty much couldn't stand that thought, so you grabbed a motel room and called to talk to Dean. He didn't answer. It went straight to voicemail. When you called Sam, his number did the same. That made your stomach heavy with worry, so you called Castiel. You didn't know much about him, except that he used to be an angel and Dean trusted him with his life.

"Hello?" The deep gravelly voice questioned.

"Castiel? It's _y/n_. Dean isn't answering his phone, neither is Sam. I'm worried. You don't know anything-"

"There's been an incident. I don't know if I'm the one who should be-"

"Are you with Dean? Is Dean okay? Is Sam?" Your voice took on a shrill edge.

There was a sound of shuffling followed by Dean's voice. "Look, shit hit the fan. Kevin is dead, Sam is... out of commission. I had to spring Crowley from the dungeon in an attempt to save Sam's ass, so... I need you to stay where you are. Nothing's safe back home, so... Stay in Texas, you hear me?"

"Not too good with directions, that one. Might let her know the consequences of her fucking around." Crowley's voice cut through.

"Don't leave Texas. Kevin was killed by an angel working for Metatron. We don't have any reason to believe you'd be a target, too, but we don't know. Stay in Texas. That's an order."

"Okay." You whispered.

"Hey, and if you see Sam... Call me, okay? He's not... Just don't engage, and call me."

"Okay. You'll be with Castiel?"

"Yeah. Be safe."

"You, too." You said, before the phone disconnected and you sat on the motel room bed. How could everything have gone so bad in 16 hours?

*******************

You changed motels twice. You were scared of Sam, scared of Crowley, scared of Metatron. There wasn't much you could do about the threat, but changing location seemed to help your mindset.

When you came into your third motel room in as many days, bags from a grocery run hanging off your arms, you gasped as you saw a figure on the opposite side of the room. Crowley turned to you and smiled. A flick of his hand had the door closing behind you.

"Before you ask, I earned this little... pardon. Saved Moose from being an angel vessel bound to Metatron. Apparently, Dean was letting Heaven's first criminal hang out in his baby brother. It was an ordeal."

"One that ended in you being freed?"

"One that ended in Abaddon predictably tracking me down and my selflessly holding her off while the boys escaped."

"Sounds almost like you planned it."

"No. Just saw it coming and planned my actions accordingly. I did, however, plan this. Had someone find you. An opportunistic demon who was double crossing me to Abaddon. Probably shouldn't be using your own credit cards, luv."

"Credit card fraud isn't my thing. Why would you-"

"Finish the game, of course." He interrupted.

You dropped the plastic bags threatening to cut off your circulation and circled, your back to the wall and eyes on the demon,  away from the door. "I'm not playing with you, Crowley."

"You say that like you have a choice. You didn't wanna play on New Year's, either, but... Well, we had our fun, anyway, didn't we?"

"Got nothing to keep me from screaming, now, do you?" You asked, eyeing your bag.

"No. I want you to scream this time. You were so noisy last time, just from one hand. Imagine how you'll sound with my cock rammed in you."

You swallowed, thickly, a hot feeling settling in your stomach. You weren't quite sure if it was fear or desire... considering your train of thought over the last week, it was likely both.

You dived for your bag, intent on grabbing your holy water, but your hands fell on emptiness. You looked up, distraught, to see the King smirk.

"I got here several minutes before you returned, took the opportunity to divest you of your... abrasives. Don't want anything to ruin the moment, do we?"

"This is... Why?"

"'Why', what? Why you?" He stepped forward, a ring of red suddenly appearing around the black of his eyes. "I am a demon who enjoys finer things. I work hard for everything I have. You, my dear, are a fine thing. You, with your standards and class. A breath of fresh air in a life filled with..." He took another step toward you.

"Gunpowder and sulfur."

"I... finer thing? I'm... a hunter. Before I was a hunter, I was a housewife." You said, looking around for an opportunity to get away.

"You don't really want to get away, _Y/N_. Think about it. I'm everything you want in a man, luv."

"Yeah, well, not a man." You corrected, trying not to look into his eyes.

"Not that big of a deal, is it? I mean, your standards are too high for a normal man."

"That's not true. My husband was intelligent and sweet, clever and appreciative and..."

"And weak. That demon took him without a fight. You deserve strength with your smarts, and experience."

"Experience?" You asked, a squeak at the end of your word.

"And a giant cock." He was suddenly in front of you, lifting your chin so that you were looking directly into his eyes.

"Not as desirable a trait as you would think, Crowley."

"Really? Then, that isn't wetness I'm smelling between your legs? You aren't intrigued?"

"No." You tried to stay stalwart as he ran a single finger from your chin to the valley between your breasts, hooking momentarily on the neckline of your tank top. "Not intrigued. Just scared."

"Don't worry, sweetheart. No need to be scared. We'll make it fit."

Your breath caught as he pointed at your shirt, which seemed to pull itself over your head and drop to the floor. Your arms came up to cover your bra and hold it in place as your bra unclasped itself. He clicked his tongue and raised a hand, shaking his head in disappointment. Your arms raised above your head all on their own and your bra slid up them. "Don't fight me. I think you'll find this all a lot easier if you just... let go."

"I don't want this. If I don't fight..."

"It won't be as fun for either of us. And who gives a damn what you want?" He put a hand up and you were pushed into the wall. Your hands wrenched together above your head. "Right now, I think it's a time to explore."

"Crowley, don't... if you do this, you're gonna lose all of the goodwill you just earned by saving Sam. When I tell Dean and Sam..."

"Oh, you're gonna tell, are you?" Crowley asked, his hands flicking open the button on your jeans and slowly unzipping them. "Like you told them about cumming all over my lap on New Years? I think you won't say a thing and I won't lose an inch of the ground I earned."

"You... you think I'll be too embarrassed to tell them I've been raped?"

"I don't think you'll be calling it that, _Y/N_. I think you'll come around to my way of thinking after I've made you scream..." He pulled down your pants and the bikini cut underwear that matched your bra so well, letting them pool at your feet. "... and shudder. After I have fucked you into that bed, taken away your ability to walk for, oh, the next two days... after I've made you like it, I don't think you'll tell them."

"Crowley..." You whined as his hands rubbed up the outsides of your thighs. "Please, don't..."

"Darling, you don't have to worry. This is exactly what you've been needing." He brought his head down to your neck and bit hard. The pain sent a jolt through your body, a whining moan being pushed out of your throat. You wanted to say it hurt, but those blunt teeth burying in the soft flesh of your neck, it fanned the fire between your legs. His hands pulled your thighs apart and his left middle and ring fingers pushed inside your opening. He didn't need to prep, you were wet enough for him to slide right in.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you as he scraped his teeth down your shoulder. Unable to move, pressed against the wall, all you could do was whine and moan as his fingers began to scissor inside of you. As the pressure began to build, he pulled his hand away. He looked amused as his gaze fell on his hand, two fingers and the back of it covered in your juices. "I could probably slide right in, how wet you are. I'm a gentleman, though, so I'm going to get you completely ready."

He dropped to his knees in front of you, picking up your left leg and hooking your knee over his shoulder and using that wet hand to open your lips. You cried out when his lips wrapped around your clit. "Crowley!"

"Louder, luv. It sends tingles to all the right places." He said, before nipping at the sensitive nerve bundle.

"Fuck!"

"Almost, but not yet." He said, pushing his fingers back into you, pumping them quickly several times, before adding a third finger. "Oh, that's better. Tight fit for 3. How many more do you think I could fit?"

"God, just don't fist me." You mumbled.

He laughed, letting your leg down and standing in front of you, running his tongue from the back of his hand to the tip of his middle finger. "I'm not that huge. Don't wanna stretch you too far."

You breathed a sigh of relief, but the feeling didn't last long as he began to undress himself. He seemed to be relishing the apprehensive excitement that rushed through you as he pulled his suit jacket off and carefully laid it on the side table next to the bed. His tie came next, the knot slowly being pulled loose, then over his head. You swallowed as he shifted his focus to you. "This is taking a bit too long, isn't it?" He snapped his fingers and suddenly was nude in front of you.

Your eyes cast downward. He hadn't been exaggerating. Almost a foot long, girth almost as big as your wrist. No, that was not going to fit easily. "Holy shit!" You groaned.

"I did warn you." He said, pulling your arms away from the wall and dragging you toward the bed. "I didn't take this publishing agent just because he was good for sales, luv. I spent years searching for a vessel who could match up to what I dreamed of having in life."

"Crowley, that's not..."

"It'll fit. If I could get it in a virgin arse sans lube, then I can get it in your dripping wet... fragrant pussy."

"I very much doubt whoever had that virgin ass enjoyed it." You muttered.

"You're right. He didn't." Crowley said, pushing you onto the bed. "But I didn't really want him to. Not like you. I'm gonna enjoy making you cum."

 _*Of course, he's bi.*_ You thought, looking up at him from the mattress.

He flicked his wrist and you pushed to top of the bed, head resting on the pillow. "Now, I'm gonna let you move, so you can participate. Are you going to play nice?"

That was the question. That was the one question that you hadn't wanted asked. Because right now you were a mess. The tension in your shoulders was literally on display for Crowley in the form of you panting, the sweat on your brow, the slickness that you could feel had run down the inside of your thigh. He made you a puddle of need and now, _now_ he was asking for consent? "You bastard!" You whispered.

He chuckled, still hovering above you not touching. "Guilty. How about this? You tell me 'no' again, I leave. You go take a nice cold shower and then you can call the Winchesters and tell them all about how I violated you, again. Or..." His left hand slid up your thigh and across your abs, stopping to flick one of your nipples before laying flat against your collarbone. "We have our fun, and Moose and Squirrel never have to know about it."

"Crowley..." You started, your voice coming out stronger than you expected. "I have no interest in being your sex toy."

He looked a tad bit disappointed and his hand twitched on your collarbone, but he didn't move. "But... just this... once." You whispered the last words, like you weren't sure they were the right ones.

The smirk that graced his face was two parts scary and one part sexy, and for a second you thought you might've made a mistake, but then he kissed you and the doubts disappeared. You could taste yourself on his tongue, but also dry champagne and sulfur. It was a surprisingly pleasant taste.

Your hands came up to his face, stubble rubbing against your palms as you chased that taste around his mouth with your tongue. You didn't realize that he'd positioned himself between your legs until you felt him pulsing against your lips. He wasn't trying to enter, he seemed much more interested in the kiss. Your left leg came up to allow your foot to rub his calf. He pulled back, looking down at you with lust and... something more. "Ready?"

Your mind flashed to Sam telling you about the third trial, about the human blood and Crowley showing emotion. Wanting to be loved. A small gasp escaped your lips at the idea.

You swallowed and nodded nervously up at him. He reached between your bodies and wrapped his hand around his cock, sliding the head between your lips and rubbing it against your clit. "Oh." You fluttered your eyes closed. He slid the head back down to the entrance and pushed his hips forward slightly. "Oh, my god!" You moaned as he inched deeper, stretching your walls.

He stilled as he bottomed out inside of you. "Oh. You feel magnificent." He whispered.

"Crowley. Please." You whispered back, your eyes opening and getting caught in his red-flecked hazel eyes.

"Oh, you beg so pretty." He responded, before pulling his hips back. He pushed back in and buried his head in the crook of your neck. He didn't bite this time, opting to leave little suckling kisses on your pulse point. Your hips raised to meet his, every thrust drawing a moan from you as his hands found yours where they had twisted into the comforter. Your legs tangled with his, your bodies pressed as close to each other as possible, sweat started to glisten on your skin. This was definitely not the 'naked push-ups' sex that you'd always had with your husband.

 _*No. Don't go there.*_ You thought as his fingers entwined with yours and he pulled both hands over your head. Your orgasm built slowly and he grew harder inside you as your hips moved together. The sweat on your palms caused them to slip against his, so you tightened your grip. "Crowley. I'm... almost... please." You panted.

He pulled his right hand from yours and slid it between your bodies, fingers working across your clit. You cried out and squeezed your eyes shut as all of your muscles clenched tight. Crowley didn't stop as you came, instead shifting his balance to his arms and picking up the pace until he was hammering into you. As another orgasm crashed over you, his body stiffened and his cock twitched several times. He didn't disengage, immediately, kissing across your collarbone before placing a languid kiss on your lips.

Crowley pulled out and rolled onto his back next to you. You looked up at the ceiling, body buzzing in the wake of twin orgasms and your mind raced over every moment since you'd walked into the room. The juxtaposition of the dirty, nasty things he said to get you revved up and the... almost caring way he'd actually fucked you. Your mind flashed, again, to ' _Crowley said he deserved to be loved'_. "Thank you, Crowley." You whispered. He didn't respond, so you leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You _are_ exactly what I've been needing."

He smiled up at you. A genuine smile. He opened his mouth to speak, but your cell phone ringtone interrupted him. You leaned over him to grab your phone from the side table. "Hello?"

"Hey. Cas said you're still in Texas?" Sam's voice came through.

"Hey! Yeah, Sam. Dean told me to stick around in Texas cause shit got... dangerous at the bunker. Is that..."

"Yeah, I think you should come back. It'll be safe here, now. Crowley is out and... I think it'd be better if you were here with me and Cas."

You stole a look at your companion, whose genuine smile had morphed into a devilish smirk. "Uh, yeah. I can be there in 7 hours. You'll fill me in when I get there?"

Sam seemed uncomfortable as he cleared his throat into the phone. "Uh, yeah. I will... or Cas can. I'll see you in a few hours."

You ended the call and looked down at Crowley. "I gotta go."

"Notice you didn't say anything to Moose."

"Well... when you're right, you're right, Crowley. This is just between us."

"Just this once, right?"

You smiled down at him. "Yeah... I mean, maybe twice." You got off the bed and pulled your clothes off of the floor. He stood and snapped, his fine tailored black suit suddenly back on his body. "Cheater." You said, playfully as you snapped your bra clasps back together behind your back.

You shimmied back into your jeans and pulled your tank top over your head, acutely aware that the King of Hell's eyes had never left you. You looked down at your bags. "Hey, could I have my stuff back? I'm not gonna assault you. I just don't want to have to explain to Sam why all of my supplies are gone."

Crowley laughed and snapped his fingers, the bag suddenly filling with your supplies, crowbar and all. He picked up your phone and fiddled with it. "My number. Next time the boys give you free reign, call me."

You chuckled, taking your phone back. "Maybe, next time, you take me to dinner first, Your Majesty." You joked, stepping into your boots and leaning down to tie them. When you looked up, Crowley was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not intended to be a full blown story, but... Hey, why not? At least one more chapter coming, maybe more.


	3. Compromised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. Here's chapter 3.

You parked in the garage and dragged your bags out of the back of the SUV. You were almost to the door when Sam opened it and grabbed your bags. "Hey. I'm glad you're okay." 

"Yeah, I mean, everything kinda went to shit while I was in Texas. My timing must be digital. Are... _you_ okay?"

"No. I'm not." Sam said, dropping your bags on the war room table and turning to lean on it. "Dean has been lying to me, again. He manipulated me, convinced me to say 'yes' to an angel to keep me alive. I have been walking around with an angel inside of me for months and I never knew. Turns out the angel he put in me was working with Metatron. He killed Kevin."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. "So, when you were in the hospital and you suddenly got better?"

"Right. Dean just couldn't let me let go. I was ready to die."

"Well, he wasn't ready for you to go. I mean... haven't you done the same for him?"

Sam looked uncomfortable. "Not like this."

"Charlie gave me her books before she went to Oz. I know about the faith healer. Dean was ready to die, you didn't let him and someone else died because of it. It's kinda similar. Yeah, Dean's took a little more subterfuge, but... same concept."

"He lied to me. No excuses."

You decided to drop it, knowing that the anger was too fresh to make headway. "So, Dean skipped?"

"Yeah. Don't ask where, though. We aren't really talking."

Castiel walked in from the direction of the kitchen. You'd only seen him once, when Sam and Dean brought him to the bunker for safety against the angels, but he definitely had more of a divine feeling now. "Hey, Castiel. Did you get your grace back?"

"Not mine, but... Yes, I am an angel once more."

You nodded, pulling your bags off of the table. "Okay, well. Awesome. I'm gonna go put..."

"Is that a bite mark?" Sam asked, leaning down to pull away your collar from your shoulder.

You could feel the blush sweep across your cheeks as you thought about Crowley. You pulled away and forced a playful smirk. "Yeah, it is. I had to do something while you guys played 'angel exorcism'."

Sam chuckled, a welcome sound when compared to the melancholy his voice had been wearing before. "Never figured you for a 'likes to be bitten' kinda chick, but okay." He said, a proud tinge to his words.

"Well, you just never know, do ya?" You said, walking past Castiel, whose eyes shined with confusion.

You didn't hear his footsteps, but he pushed into your room right before you shut the door. "You had sex with Crowley."

You swallowed and dropped your bags. "How did you-"

"I'm an angel. I can read your thoughts. When Sam asked about that mark, you thought of Crowley, with great pleasure. You do know that he's evil, don't you?"

"Of course, I do. And it's... never going to happen again. It was... it won't happen again. Are you going to tell Sam?"

Castiel examined you for a moment, likely to see if you really didn't intend to call on Crowley, then he shook his head. "So long as it doesn't happen again, it isn't Sam's business. But know that Crowley is convincing and manipulative. If he is trying to use you against us, I will not hesitate to remove you. Do you understand me?"

"Sure. If Crowley tries to use his sexual prowess to turn me, and I don't reject him, you'll kill me. Loud and clear, Cas." You said, quietly, leaning down to pick your bags back up. "Told you, one time thing. Just... hadn't gotten laid since two months before my husband died, so... I'm good now."

"You won't be vulnerable to this again in another 8 months?"

"Castiel, I don't know you well enough to be super open about this, but... I'm hoping that 8 months from now, I won't be vulnerable to this again. Okay?"

Castiel gave you that examining look again, before nodding and walking out of your room. You dropped your bags on your bed and started to unpack your clothes. You turned and looked in your full length mirror. The bite mark on your shoulder was purple and yellow. You pulled out your phone and scrolled down to 'Crowley' and brought up text. **Castiel knows. He said he won't tell but it can't happen again.**

_**Don't worry about him. Find anointing oil, draw this on each wall in your room and on the door. Enochian warding to keep him from seeing inside.**_ A picture accompanied the text.

**Okay, how do I keep him out of my thoughts? Because he pulled the knowledge straight out of my fucking head.**

_**I'll teach you a trick when I see you again.** _

**A trick? What kind of trick?**

_**Basically masks your thoughts** _ **.**

**From everyone, or just the angel?**

_**Even if you mask your thoughts, I'll still know what you're thinking. Always do** _ **.**

**Really? Always?**

**_Always._ **

**Okay. Next time.**

**********

You were searching for anointing oil when Sam walked into the war room with a bag. "You leaving?" You asked.

Sam nodded. "There's a couple suspicious deaths in New Mexico I wanna take a look at. Cas finished healing me before you got back, so... I think I need to get out there again."

"But hunting by yourself, that's... not the greatest idea, remember? I mean, I'm here. I'm actually an official hunter now, I've hunted."

"Yeah, but... I think... I've been here with Cas since Dean skipped and I... I think I might need some time alone. It's coming off as an angry spirit, so... it's easy. I don't really need help on this. You stay here, okay? Hold down the fort, so to speak."

"Hold down the bunker. Gotcha. Can do." You answered. He seemed grateful that you gave in so easily.

"You need anything before I head out?" He asked.

"Just point me in the direction of the anointing oils and then you can get on your way."

"There's a room downstairs with a bunch of magic stuff. Down the hall from the electrical room. Why do you need anointing oil?"

"Just gonna do some protection sigils and I'd rather not paint or Sharpie them to my walls, you know? Down the hall from electrical. Thanks. Call me if you need me, okay? I've got nothing else going but Netflix." You said, before bouncing down the hall.

**********************

The sigils were easy, but after you finished with them, you were overcome with boredom. Two days of alone time had you climbing the walls a bit. As you sat in your room, watching Buffy on Netflix, you pulled out your phone. **Sam left me all alone. I'm bored.** you sent to Crowley. He _had_ told you to let him know when you were given free reign again.

**_How long?_ **

**Am I alone? I don't know. He went to New Mexico for a spirit thing. He did say he wanted time to be alone. He might not even come back once he's done there.**

"Well, isn't that fortunate for me?" Crowley said, appearing at the foot of your bed. "Didn't think they'd leave you alone so soon. I mean, doesn't Moose know I'm still on the loose?"

You smiled. "I think he's more focused on other things. Me, too."

"Oh, are you distracted by me?"

"Nope. Not at all. I am wondering, though, why was Sam worried for me because you got away? I never mentioned all the threats you rattled off when you were chained up."

He smirked, sitting on your bed next to you. "I may have mentioned to the Winchesters how much of a bad idea it was to send an attractive, intelligent, classy woman like you to the dungeon. That, had they been smart, they would've kept you to themselves. And I may have mentioned, at great length, all the things I wanted to do to you."

"So, Sam called me back here... to prevent exactly what happened in Plainview?" You asked, amused.

"The Winchesters thrive in futility." He whispered, pushing your hair from your shoulder and bending his head to kiss over the bruise on your shoulder.

"Hey. You were supposed to teach me how to hide what I'm thinking. Magical poker face." You pulled away and twisted your body to look at him.

"It can't wait?"

"Come on, King of Hell. Castiel said he'd kill me if I... was compromised again."

Crowley rolled his eyes and leaned back. "Compromised. I'll show you compromised." He mumbled. "All right. Clear your mind. Don't think about me, don't think about Cas, don't think about anything."

You closed your eyes and tried to blank out your mind. You focused on your breathing as your head started to feel heavy. You felt two of Crowley's fingers touch your forehead, and then a searing pain. Your eyes shot open and you tried to pull away from him, but your body wouldn't move. He pulled his hand away and your body fell back onto the bed. "Oh, my... what did you do?"

He smirked. "I turned off your transmitter. Your thoughts are going to stay right where they are."

"Transmitter? I have a transmitter in my brain?"

"Everyone does. It's a psychic... thing. It's off now, you don't have to worry, pet." He rushed through the last few words and leaned down to place a kiss on your cheek.

You raised a hand and placed it on his cheek, rubbing against his stubble with your thumb. "You know what I don't get about you, Crowley?"

"I'm sure we could fill a book with answers to that question." He whispered, but it carried none of the normal snark.

"Why do you even _want_ to stay King of Hell? You've told me how much you hate that place."

"Have I?" He climbed up your body as his words ghosted across your lips, his weight pressing you into your mattress.

"Yeah. You called your time in the dungeon 'a vacation from tedium'. Said Hell was Hell for everyone, even you." You whispered, losing interest in the conversation as he brought a hand down to massage the top of your left thigh.

"I worked for my position, y/n. I spent years under Alistair, under Lilith and Azazel. I stepped on people and stabbed backs and fucked my way up and I am not going to hand my crown over to Cain's redheaded stepchild just because she's a bit more cold and calculated than I _currently_ am. I will not give up my throne until I am dead... again." His words were serious, but his tone was soft. He wasn't angry that you'd asked. He, instead, seemed happy to explain. His hand came up from your thigh to sweep his fingers through your hair. "You know what I don't understand about _you_?"

"I didn't think there was anything you didn't get about me. Thought you could read me like a book?"

He ran his hand down to your neck, gently caressing the bite mark. "I can, but you're one of those Japanese comic books. Everything's backward and in a foreign tongue."

"So, you just look at the pictures and get a close enough story to pass?"

The rough kiss he placed on your lips was full of appreciation and his hazel eyes demanded your attention as he stared down at you. "You're bloody perfect, you know that?" He whispered. His hands coasted down your sides as he spoke, never breaking eye contact. "Clever. Gorgeous. Funny."

He punctuated each word with a small jerk of his hips, grinding himself against your core. "Defiant. Strong. You could have anyone you want. Man or monster. What are you doing with an ancient old Scot? Why do you let me have you?"

The question threw you. Maybe it was the complete lack of confidence inherent in the question, or perhaps the way his eyes still hadn't released yours, but it made your throat go dry.

You smiled, deciding to use levity to break the tension in the air. "Oh, Crowley. Does the King need to hear his praises sung?"

He finally blinked, the corners of his mouth turning up a bit. "It's always nice to hear them in a Soprano."

You brought your hands up to his tie, pulling the knot loose before completely untying the strip of black silk. "Do you want to hear about the first time I met you? How your voice turned me on even though I was terrified? How I prayed to God for forgiveness for being attracted to a demon and He rewarded me that night with the hottest wet dream of my life?"

"Featuring me?" He whispered, his hands finding your hips and stopping, gripping them tightly.

You nodded. "The dreams got worse the more time I spent with you, but I brushed them off, figured I just needed to get laid or buy better toys, but it was you. Your voice in my head. The tension in my shoulders given physical form." You brought your legs up to cage his body between your knees. "I resisted because most everything in me told me this was wrong. Everything I knew you'd done, the blood on your hands. I resisted for months, but you knew. You were there, in my head. You knew that I was going to that New Years party to get a man, a man to get you out of my head."

You brought your hand to his face again, rubbing the silk of his tie across his brow. "I sulked in my room for 3 days after New Years, because you gave me the best orgasm I'd ever had. You played me like a fiddle, with just one hand. I cried over the implications of being so turned on by such an evil man. Now, I _could_ have anyone I want, man or monster. The fact that _you_ want me is proof of that. What bigger monster is there than the King of Hell? All those bodies on you and all that blood on your hands. You know what I think about all that, now, Crowley?" You whispered, pulling his head down to press a sweet kiss on his lips. "I just can't bring myself to care, anymore."

He groaned as you bucked your hips against him. "I let you have me, King, because you're everything I've ever wanted. You're smart, you're funny, you're handsome, and you've got an amazing cock, which is made more amazing by the wisdom you wield it with. And you make me feel like the most powerful woman in the world. That I can make you make these noises..." You bucked your hips against him again, his eyes closing as a sigh pulled from him. "You, the most powerful man in Hell, groaning and gasping at my touch. If that doesn't make me powerful, nothing does."

Crowley's hands grabbed the sides of your face, biting at your bottom lip. You moaned into his mouth, dropping your hands to his shoulders and holding on like your life depended on it. He pulled away and kissed down your neck, licking and nipping at the bruise on your shoulder. He brought his hand down and rubbed you through your jeans. "You are, you know that, pet? You are the most powerful woman in the world." He said, before biting down on your shoulder, directly over the original bite mark.

You whined, a mewling and squealy sound. "Fuck."

"Someone likes being bitten." He whispered, and scraped his teeth along your shoulder.

"Never been bitten before you. Maybe I just like it from you." You moaned.

"I think you're just kinky. Beautiful, powerful and kinky. Such a combination." He leaned up, putting his weight on his arms. He stared down at you, that look in his eyes again. The one that reminded you of his time in the trials.

"Crowley. I-" You started, but you were interrupted by your phone buzzing on your bed-side table. "Fuck."

"Don't answer."

You looked over and saw Sam's photo smiling on your screen. "It's Sam. If I don't answer, he'll get worried and send Cas to come check on me."

"And he'll find you compromised. Bollocks." Crowley rolled off of you and you grabbed your phone.

"Yeah, Sam?" You answered.

"I finished up in New Mexico, but I just picked up a thing in Wisconsin. It might be Garth in the hospital. We told you about Garth, right?"

"Yeah, you told me about Garth. What's he in the hospital for?" You said, a little bit snippy.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

' _You've got the worst timing ever.'_ You thought as you sighed. "No, just... stir-crazy. I probably just need to get out of the bunker. Let me know if you need me."

"Sure thing, y/n."

Crowley was standing in the corner by your door when you ended the call. His suit was no longer disheveled, his tie in a perfect Windsor knot. You whined. "Why are you off the bed?"

He smiled, his snark and cockiness back. "Maybe, this time, I take you to dinner first."

"What? Oh! Really?" Your eyebrows came together.

"Yes. Really. Come on. Put on something pretty. I'll take you somewhere nice."

You chuckled. "You remember I'm a hunter-housewife, right? I look like I have something pretty?"

"Well, you should. Just a mo', pet." He said, disappearing. You sighed and walked to your dresser, pulling out your make-up bag and starting to paint your face. Crowley popped up behind you as you were putting the finishing touches on your mascara. You'd chosen dark colors, browns and dark greys on your eyes and a plum-brown lipstick called Marsala. You grabbed your hairbrush and turned to him. He blinked a few times, staring at you while holding a dress bag. "Sweet Cerberus, I didn't think you could look any better than you did on New Years." He whispered.

"What, I didn't look good in Plainview?"

"No, you looked dirty and amazing in Plainview. All flushed and sweaty and...mmmh." He shook his head and extended the hanger and dress bag to you. "Put this on."

"And you just _know_ my dress size?" You asked, skeptically.

"Have I mentioned I was a tailor in my first life? You think I haven't measured every inch of you by now?" He raised an eyebrow.

You blushed as you grabbed the bag. You put it on your bed and unzipped the black dress bag. Inside was a knee-length red chiffon dress with a sweetheart bust embroidered with silver flowers. "Where are you taking me, Crowley? This is not just dinner apparel." You whispered.

"Dinner, dancing, a private tour of the Musee d'Orsay. Something like that."

You turned to him and blinked slowly several times, before tilting your head. "You... want to take me to... Paris?"

"The Van Gogh exhibit is heart-wrenching. We'll have to fly, of course. So, I have my private jet waiting for us at ICT Wichita." He said.

"You have a private jet?"

"Only for special occasions. Normally, I just... appear where I want to be. I have to make allowances when I'm traveling with humans, though."

"Do you often fly human women to Paris for dinner and dancing and Van Gogh exhibits?"

"No, usually, I'm just flying prospective big fish around to get them to sell themselves to me. This is a special circumstance, though. Put the dress on. I want to see it on you."

"I'll put it on but Wichita to Paris is, like 12 hours, so I'm not wearing it on the jet."

"If I have my way, pet, you won't be wearing anything on the jet." He smirked as you pulled your tank top off and slid the dress over your head. He stepped behind you and zipped the dress, his fingers purposely running up your back as he did. He stepped back, looking at you appreciatively. "Definitely have your measurements right. Perfect."

"Okay. I'll need to wear a different bra but I do look amazing." You conceded, looking into your mirror. "But, If I'm going on an airplane, I'm gonna put on sweats or something."

"You're gonna need shoes. I wasn't a cobbler, but I think these'll fit." He said, producing a pair of black high heeled sandals. "Try 'em on first. Don't want to get to Paris without dancing shoes."

"Crowley... you... can't just give me all this stuff."

"I can. I am. Don't fight it. These are the perks of dating me. Deal with them." You blinked at him for a few seconds before stepping into the shoes. "If you prefer, pet, I won't refer to this as 'dating'."

"No, it's fine. I just... wasn't expecting _you_ to want to call it that. Seems a bit... sentimental."

Crowley scoffed. "You know, I haven't _dated_ a woman since the plague times. For you, I'm willing to extend the sentiment."

You smiled as he knelt down in front of you to buckle the straps on the sandals. When he stood, allowing his hands to follow the silhouette of your body up to your face, he placed a kiss to your cheek, then one to your mark. His mark. Your bodies melded a bit better with you in heels, the height differential closed to just a couple inches.

You stepped around him, testing if you could walk in those shoes. There was a time, when you were younger, that you could run on grass in heels, but that had been before marriage put you in slippers and tennis shoes, before hunting put you in hiking boots. As you spun and danced in front of your mirror, letting the dress swirl around your legs, Crowley's phone went off. He growled at it as he looked at the screen. "Winchesters have the worst timing." He muttered, putting the phone to his ear. "What do you want, Dean? I'm busy... Same as always. Actually, I'm about to go on a rampage killing all of your friends. Just got a line on your friend Garth in hospital in..."

"Wisconsin." You whispered, sitting on your bed to take off the heels.

"Wisconsin... Yes, I'm sure it's him. Skinny little man with a rat face and a gigantic schnoz... What, do I have to do everything for you, Dean? Get on your bloody computer and hack something. That's what you _used_ to do, isn't it?" Crowley growled, placing the phone back in his pocket. "Brothers en route to the same location. That should be good for some sparks. It'll give us time to enjoy Paris."

"Unzip me?" You asked, standing.

"Oh. Any time." He said, pulling the zipper down and gently pushing the straps down your arms. His mouth came down on your bite mark, leaving several small kisses over it.

"You like that mark you put on me, huh?" You asked, turning to wrap your arms around his neck as the dress fell to the floor.

"I'm the only one who's ever marked you like that. It's special." He whispered, brushing his lips against yours. He pulled away, his eyes drifting down your body. "Get dressed. Pack an overnight bag. Don't forget your passport. I mean, I could get you through customs, but... rather not make things harder than necessary."


	4. Purge

The jet was small, but luxurious, with lush leather seats, a full bar a 65 inch flat screen TV and a bed. You flopped down in one of the seats and raised your eyebrow at Crowley. "What's the bed for? Thought you just had bigwigs up in this thing."

"I do have bigwigs in here. Bigwigs like whores."

"Oh, so I get to grace the same bed as politicians and escorts? Really?"

"It's been cleaned, and there's new sheets on it."

"It's probably a syphilis breeding ground."

"No. It's just a breeding ground. Sweetheart, it's cleaner than the motel bed I took you on last time. And..." He leaned forward. "If you won't sleep on the plane, then I'll be forced to get us a hotel room in Paris and then you will never make it back to the bunker before Jolly Green. He's playing with werewolves, that's good for a few days at most."

"What werewolves?"

"Garth's a wolf. Bitten a while ago, he's been living with a non-violent pack."

"How do you know that?"

"It's my job. Now, what do you say?"

You nodded. "You know, you convinced me in less than a minute. You must be a great salesman."

"Yes. I'm the best. I don't get to practice the art much, anymore. The paperwork takes precedence. Most of the practice I get, lately, comes from running circles around the plaid brothers. And, of course, getting into your pants."

"You didn't sell me, Crowley. You forced yourself onto me."

"And you liked it. Sounds like a successful sale to me."

"You ought to be glad your vessel is a looker with a giant cock. Otherwise, you wouldn't have convinced me."

"Uh-uh, sweetheart. It was my voice that got to you, remember? The voice is mostly mine."

"Mostly." You smiled. Cocky Crowley was attractive.

*************

Two days later, a black Lincoln dropped you in front of the bunker, the driver pulling your dress and your small duffel out of the back as you climbed out. Crowley had disappeared from the Wichita airport saying Hell needed him, so you'd had to ride home alone. You'd passed the time thinking about your Parisian vacation that you'd never be able to tell anyone else about. Dinner at Restaurant Le Meurice followed by dancing (man, oh man, that demon could dance) at a 'retro dancing discotheque'. You giggled at the memory of you almost falling on your ass in front of a dozen French senior citizens as Crowley tried to teach you to swing dance.

You smiled at the driver as he handed you your dress and bag, before tipping his hat and driving away. You opened the bunker door and slipped inside, locking it behind you. You ran to your room and quickly unpacked, leaving the dress in its garment bag and stashing it under your bed. You sighed as you flopped down on your bed and grabbed your remote.

You only beat Sam home by a few hours, but it was enough to make it look like you'd been there the whole time. You rushed to the hallway by the garage as you heard the roar of an engine coming in. You were sure it was the Impala, but that couldn't be, could it? Sure enough, Dean walked in the door from the garage. You smiled, bouncing forward. "Dean! You're back!"

"Yeah. Not in a Winchester capacity, only in a hunter capacity." He said, dropping his bag to wrap an arm around your shoulder.

"What does that even mean?"

"It means that Sam does not wish to be brothers any more. He says that all of our problems are because we are brothers. So, we can hunt together, but we can't... be anything more than that."

"So... it's gonna be like what I have with you guys?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Stupidest shit I ever..." He said, grumpily.

You sighed. "Look, I know you got mixed-up feelings about this, Dean, but don't take it out on me."

Dean sighed as Sam came in from the garage, not saying a word as he walked toward his bedroom. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Just frustrated. So... how you doing? What'd you do while you had the bunker to yourself?"

You smiled. "I watched a bunch of Netflix. I did some weapons training. Not really much..."

Dean shook his head and picked up his bag. "I wish you would have gotten out."

"What?"

"Yeah. When we aren't around, you should spend some time out of the bunker. Go have some fun, get laid, do something other than lying around here. I mean, the bunker sat empty for half a century, it doesn't need you babysitting it all the time."

You held back a laugh at the idea. "Yeah, okay. Next time, no sitting around the bunker. I'll go on a vacation."

"Or, you can help with the next hunt. You did a good job on that salt and burn, right?"

You smiled. "I did. I did a damn fine job on that salt and burn. You'd really... you want me to come with on the next hunt?"

"Well, I mean, there's no one here to babysit any more. Crowley's out and Kevin..." Dean looked down, sadly. "Anyway, I think you've earned a bit of... fieldwork. So, next case, you're with us."

"Thank you! I can't wait! A real case."

"Hey, calm down with that shit. You're a grown woman." Dean teased, but he smirked as he walked away.

"Wait. What's that?" Your eyes fell on angry looking mark on his arm. It looked like a brand.

Dean pulled his arm closer to his body as you moved forward to examine it. "Mark of Cain."

"As in, the biblical... mark of the first murderer?"

"It's, uh, supposed to help me put down Abaddon. Don't worry about it, until it's something to worry about." He smiled his assurance and walked away.

***************

The next morning, you walked out of your room and narrowly missed running straight into Sam. He smiled down at you, much warmer than he'd looked the night before. "Hey. We didn't get a chance to talk yesterday." He said.

"You were busy cold-shouldering Dean. I get it. Firmly establishing your boundaries."

"Yeah, but I didn't mean for you to get... caught in the cold front, you know? That is not for you."

"Yeah, I get that." You started walking toward the kitchen. "It's not a precision strike, though, Sam. I'm gonna get caught in the cross."

"Well, just remember, y/n... It's not you."

"I'm awesome. Of course, it's not." As you walked into the kitchen, your eyes fell on Dean, at the table with his laptop, head resting on his hand. "Good morning."

Sam immediately went into robot mode. "Hey."

Dean barely acknowledged. "Hey." He responded, his voice hoarse.

"You go to bed last night?" Sam asked, nonchalantly, as he checked the coffee pot.

"What? Uh, no." Dean cleared his throat and picked up a glass with a little remnants of whiskey in the bottom. "No, uh, 'Rudy' was on. Uh, then, uh, 'Unforgiven', and then I was too jacked to sleep, so... research."

"Gadreel?" Sam asked, preparing his breakfast as you grabbed a frozen waffle from the freezer and popped it into the toaster.

"And Metatron and the Mark of Cain and... Crickets. I did find us a case, though." That last bit seemed directed at you, so you perked up.

"Oh, yeah?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, was a strange death in Stillwater, Minnesota. A competitive eater died after a hot dog-eating contest."

"So, what? Death by tube steak?"

"If only. He got attacked in his car, but, uh, get this -- he shrunk from 300 pounds to 90 pounds."

"Witchcraft?" You asked, as your waffle popped up.

"Or a heavy-duty laxative. You guys game?" Dean asked. That was directed mostly at Sam as he sat down to eat a bowl of corn flakes.

"Yeah."

"Good. Looks like it's a whore's bath for me. I'll be ready in five." Dean stood, rubbing his hand down his face. He walked toward the doorway as you took his place, munching on your Eggo.

"You sure you're okay, Dean?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"'Cause, I don't know, you... This isn't about what I said the other day, is it?" Sam asked.

* _Why is he pushing it?*_ You thought, watching Sam maintain his 'moral superiority' face.

"Oh, about that we're not supposed to be brothers? No, don't flatter yourself. I don't break that easy."

"Oh, good, 'cause I was just being honest."

"Oh, yeah. No, I got that loud and clear." Dean shot back as he walked into the hall.

"You just gonna keep antagonizing? He obviously isn't happy about it, you gotta throw it in his face, Sam?"

Sam shrugged. "Can't let him get comfortable. Can't let me get comfortable. It opens us up for..."

"Yeah, okay. I'm gonna go pack." You said, grabbing a corn flake out of his bowl and standing.

"You sure you want to go out on this one?"

"You think I can't handle a witch, Sam?" You asked, stopping at the doorway.

"No, it's not... I mean, with how Dean's acting..."

"Dean's acting just fine. I'm coming with. I have a skirt suit and an FBI badge that have been begging to be used. Come on. Not gonna miss out on this."

************

The ride to Stillwater was more awkward than breakfast had been. Stuck in Baby's backseat as Sam rode shotgun and Dean drove. 9 hours of silence, only filled by AC/DC and Led Zeppelin. Sam kept looking at you in the mirror. It was almost like he was trying not to notice Dean, so he was laser-focused on you. Your phone went off around hour 7 and Sam stared at you as you checked the message.

 ** _Stopped by the bunker. No one's home._**

 **On a case. Heading to Stillwater, Minn. How's Hell, your Majesty?** You answered, trying to ignore Sam's eyes on you.

 ** _Insufferable, as always. Was hoping for a bit of stress relief, but I suppose that's out of the question. What are you hunting?_**

 **Looks like a witch, but we haven't gotten there yet so idk.**

 ** _Well. If it's one of mine, I'll pull them off. How are the Hardy Boys dealing?_**

 **Hunting together, but that's it. Sam's got them on some sort of "we are just partners, not brothers" thing. Dean's not dealing with it well. Or maybe, he's not dealing with the Mark well. He's not sleeping. What's up with that, BTW?**

 ** _Long story._**

 **I'm traveling in a car with silent angst and silent anger. Bore me.**

 ** _All right. Abaddon can only be killed by The First Blade. First Blade can only be wielded by those who bear the Mark of its creator, Cain. Dean wants to kill Abaddon, so I facilitated, for both of our sakes. Now, I'm looking for the Blade._**

 **Where's the long part? That was Twitter worthy.**

 ** _Might be some side effects._**

 **What kind?**

 ** _Don't know. Dean interrupted Cain's warning. I can only speculate._**

 **Great.**

 ** _Don't be mad at me. Dean asked for it. Literally._**

"Who are you texting?" Sam asked, finally.

"Whoever the hell she wants, man." Dean piped up in your defense.

"Just this guy I got to know around New Year's." You said, putting your phone back into your pocket.

"That before you took to drinking with Crowley?" Dean asked, his eyes flicking from the road to the rearview mirror and back.

"You wanna talk about doing dumb shit with demons? Cause the Mark on your arm has its own story to tell." You shot back, playfully. Dean nodded and pulled his sleeve down.

*************************

You leaned against a desk in the police station as the three of you waited for the sheriff to show up with the coroner's report. Sam sat next to you on the desk. A little too close. You scooted over a little as Sheriff Hanscum rounded the bullpen and handed the report to Sam. Sam stood and flipped open the folder. 

"Thanks for your patience, agents. Coroner's report finally came in." The sheriff said.

"All right, thank you. All right, let's see. Did Wayne McNut really weigh 300 pounds just moments before time of death?" Sam asked.

"316, to be exact." She confirmed.

"And the official cause of death?" You asked, looking at the picture of the deflated man.

"Cardiac arrest. But between you and me, that's just a guess. The vic suffered massive organ damage." You smiled a bit at the sheriff's accent as she turned and walked a few steps away, handing a second folder to a woman at one of the desks. "Here you go, Jenny. Ruptured spleen, pierced liver, collapsed lung. Looked like everything was just sucked right out of him." She said, before pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"Like he'd been hoovered?" Dean suggested.

"Yeah. Yeah, you know, I gotta be honest, fellas... hm?" She started, taking a powdered doughnut from the box and offering them to the hunters. You stood and followed Dean as he grabbed a doughnut and handed one to you. "We're stumped. This type of thing just doesn't happen in Stillwater." She leaned against a desk and took a bite of doughnut as you carefully nibbled on yours.

"Now, did Wayne have any enemies?" Sam asked, rifling through the folder.

"Hm. More like an unfriendly rivalry." The sheriff answered. Dean took a bite of his doughnut, causing powder to cascade down the front of him, sticking to his chin and lips. "A guy named 'Slim Jim' Morgan. Like Wayne, he was pretty well-known in the competitive-eatin' circuit."

Sam looked up and furrowed his brow at Dean, signalling him to wipe his mouth. Dean nodded and wiped at his face with a paper napkin, which did absolutely nothing to help. Sam shook his head and focused back onto the Sheriff. "Competitive-eating circuit? Is that a big thing out here?"

"Oh, yah. You betcha. Folks take it real seriously. Train for months. Eat all sorts of wackadoo stuff, you know, like, uh... baked beans, buff wings, butter."

 

"Butter?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. Sometimes deep-fried."

"They do that at state fairs, now. Fried butter. Fried Oreos. You batter up almost anything and throw it in a fryer, you can sell it in America." You said, as Dean took another huge bite of doughnut and a cloud of powder fell over him.

"This year alone, Wayne won the Butter Bowl, the Wing Ding, and Shrimptasia. Anywho, point being, Wayne McNut was the only one Slim Jim couldn't beat in the whole Great Lakes region."

"So, is he a suspect?" You asked, putting the rest of your doughnut into your mouth, neatly.

"We checked him out, but Slim Jim was in the Hot Doggery at the time of Wayne's death, and we got 15 witnesses to prove it."

"Really?" Dean asked.

"Yah." You watched as Dean and Sheriff Hanscum exchanged a look and each took a bite of their doughnuts, chewing happily.

*********************************

You knocked on the door as Dean examined his suit for powdered sugar. A tall, skinny brunette man answered. "Hi." You flashed your badge. "I'm Agent Stanley, these are my partners Agents Frehley and Criss. We were wondering if we could have a few moments of your time, talk about the... unusual death of Wayne McNut."

The skinny man nodded and led you and the boys into the kitchen of the house. He immediately began to shove lettuce from a bowl into his mouth. "Training. When I gear up for a competition, I eat lettuce. Stretches the stomach."

"Yet another reason to stay away from salads." Dean muttered, looking away from the competitive eater.

"How well did you know Wayne McNut?" Sam asked.

"Well, well enough to know he was a weasel and a cheat. I hate to say it, but, uh, karma's a bitch."

Dean's gaze fell onto a shelf full of what looked like witchcraft paraphernalia. "This is interesting."

"Mala's good luck charms."

"And who's Mala?" You asked.

"My old lady."

"Is your old lady superstitious?" Dean asked.

"Yah. She's Romanichal."

"Romanichal?" Dean asked, confused.

"Gypsy." Sam answered, quickly.

"But don't call her that. She says it's reductive. But I think it's a compliment. I mean, gypsies are all the rage on TV. 'My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding', 'Gypsy Sisters'... 'Keeping up with the Kardashians.'"

You rolled your eyes. "It _is_ reductive. The word comes from an ancient misconception that Roma came from Egypt, when they most likely originated in India. They have a long history of persecution and they come away with a bad reputation for stealing when needed to feed their families. And taking an ancient culture and turning it into a... _reality_ TV show and saying that's a compliment... well, that's an insult."

"You sound like Mala. Are you Romanichal?"

You shook your head. "Not really. Great great great grandmother married a gadje back in Bohemia. The Family disowned her, so she converted completely. Left the culture behind when they moved to New York."

Slim Jim nodded in understanding. Sam looked at you, confused, for a second. You hadn't shared with them that you were descendant from Gypsies. It hadn't come up. "Um." Sam cleared his throat, turning his attention back to the lettuce-muncher. "You mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Yah, go ahead. But use the one upstairs at the back. Mala's taking a shower in ours."

"Right." Sam said, walking out of the room toward the stairs.

"Did you really lose the 'Wiener Winner' by one dog?" Dean asked.

"Yah." Slim Jim said, disappointed.

"Hey, so I didn't know you were a gypsy." Dean turned his focus on you.

"Romani. And I'm not. Just... was really interested when I found out that I was descended from... So, hot dog eating contest, huh? Do you do a lot of those?"

"Yah. Now I'm not going to lose them."

Dean seemed to understand that you didn't want to talk so he turned back to Slim Jim. "And what are we talkin'? Six inches? Foot-long?"

"Look, agent. Am I a suspect here or what? 'Cause unless you got a warrant-"

He was cut off as Sam walked into the kitchen and cleared his throat. "You guys, uh, ready to go?"

"Yeah." Dean pulled a card holder out of his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. "Uh, Mr. Morgan, thank you for your time. If you remember anything else, this is our number and where we're staying locally." Dean slapped the card on top of the old school jam box on the counter.

"Have a nice day, Mr. Morgan." You said, following the boys out of the house.


	5. Mine

You were excited for your first undercover assignment. I mean, how could you not be? Undercover at a high-end spa? As a customer? While Dean was slinging rabbit food in the cafeteria and Sam was teaching yoga. Which, Sam teaching yoga was a joke you had to be in on. A guy that big, in shorts and a skintight tank top... ha. You signed up for the Ashtanga Yoga class and put on the second skin that was your brand new purple yoga pants and a black racer-back tank. Sam smiled and left the head of the class as you walked into the yoga studio, a Canyon Valley water bottle in your hand.

"Hey. You ready for this?" You asked.

He smiled. "Of course, I am. You ready? I won't go easy."

"Never yoga'd before. I don't even think that's an actual verb. Anyway, I'll give it my all." You responded. You poked his left bicep. "Wow. Those are... muscles. You guys wear so many layers, usually, that I wasn't sure what was under all that plaid."

Sam chuckled and looked up, almost like he was keeping something to himself. "Grab a mat."

You smiled and took a beige mat at the back of the studio. You followed pretty easily, watching Sam and the other students stretch and bending your body to match theirs. Sam walked around the room as everyone did Downward Dog, helping people with their form. When he came to you, he ran his hand down your back and leaned over. "Everybody has those red marks." He whispered. You nodded. He moved to stand behind you, easily bringing his hands around to rest against your abs. "You need to tighten your core."

You tightened your abs and expected him to pull his hands away, but they simply moved to your hips. "Sam?" You whispered, confused.

He cleared his throat and pulled his hands away, then walked away toward the front of the studio. "Okay, everybody. Up into Warrior."

40 minutes later, everyone was dripping sweat as they left the studio. They looked wildly unhappy, but you felt energized and were considering buying a yoga DVD before heading back to the bunker. "Thanks for the workout." You said, walking past him and heading toward the cafeteria, intent on some salad and a cabbage wrap. As you walked past a supply closet, you were grabbed and pulled in. Sulfur and smoke and scotch surrounded you as you were pushed, face first, into a rack of cleaning supplies. Your arms were pulled behind your back and twisted up into a painful position. "What the-"

"Shut up!" Crowley growled in your ear.

"Crowley. What are you doing? You're hurt-"

"What am _I_ doing? What are _you_ doing? Traipsing around with Sam bloody Winchester, wearing these tiny little pants..." Your yoga pants were suddenly down around your knees. "...letting him _touch_ you."

"Crowley, it was yoga. We're undercover on a case." You groaned out as he pressed you harder into rack. 

"It was that bloody _ogre_ taking any opportunity to put his hands on you! He's wanted you longer than I have, but you are mine!" Crowley's mouth came down on the fading bite mark and he bit down harder than he ever had. You moaned and bucked backward against him, but he didn't move, digging his teeth deeper into your shoulder. Your knees went weak as heat rushed between your legs. "He wants you, the way I have you and you _let_ him _touch_ you."

"I-I didn't know, Crow-Crowley. Plea-please."

"Please, what? Please fuck you until you remember that you're mine?"

The thought simultaneously pissed you off and aroused you. "I don't belong to you, Crowley." You pushed back against him. "I let you have me because _I_ wanted you, not because I wanted to be owned. If I wanted Sam, I wouldn't be with you."

He growled, a rumble vibrating through your back as he jerked your hips backward and suddenly entered you. "Bitch."

Your head fell forward, knocking a bottle of bleach off the shelf. He pulled back and hammered his hips forward as fast and hard as his demonic strength would allow. "Bastard." You grunted as he continued his assault. Your grunts quickly turned to moans, though as he let your arms go and placed his hands on each of your hips, pulling you backward for every thrust. You grasped at the rack, trying to steady yourself against your legs being tangled in your yoga pants and panties, him pulling you backward with every sweep of his hips, and the rush of hormones and horniness coursing through you. "Fuck... you... fucking... monster."

His right hand was suddenly at your throat, applying just enough pressure to make it difficult to breathe and pulling your head backward and body into an arc as he continued to pound into you. "You love it, you dirty whore. You feel how wet you are to be taken in a closet with no foreplay? I could probably make you cum without _touching_ your clit."

"Doubt it." You challenged in a whisper. You whined at a sudden empty feeling as he pulled out and turned you around, lifting you, impaling you and slamming you into the closet door. "Fu-"

"Shut up!" He growled as he began to fuck you into the wood of the door. "You don't want anyone to open the door and see you getting fucked like the whore you are, do you? Especially your precious Winchesters."

Your hands went to his neck, the only thing you could hang onto. You could feel yourself getting close. It was a slowly rising pressure inside your walls. You dragged your left hand between your bodies, intent on pushing yourself over the ledge, but his hand clamped down on yours as he bent his head to catch your lips in a deep kiss, his tongue brushing across yours greedily. You moaned, loudly, as your muscles tightened and you crashed down on the other side of your orgasm. He continued to kiss you as he let your legs down and pulled your pants and panties back up. You pushed your hands into his hair, deepening the kiss as he zipped his slacks and pushed your back into the door. He pulled back a bit and looked down at you. He had that look in his eyes again. "Hello, Darling."

You chuckled, letting your hand move across the stubble on his cheeks. "I prefer that to 'whore', for future reference."

"Got a bit carried away. Moose was touching you."

"You got jealous. I understand. No need to worry, though. Sam Winchester... he doesn't stand up to my rigorous standards. No _man_ can, remember?" You slid away from the door and adjusted your pants. "How's my hair?"

He smiled and stepped forward, kissing your cheek. "Lovely, just like the rest of you. Have you lost weight?"

"I don't know. It is a weight-loss spa." You smirked and grabbed his tie. "How long are you going to be in Minnesota, your highness?"

"How long do you want me here?"

You sighed and let his tie fall back to his chest, thinking of Sam and Dean coming and going from your room at Canyon Valley. "I never want you anywhere else, but... Sam and Dean are avoiding each other, so I'm kinda... running mediation. Oh, I do want some more of _that_ , but... maybe later."

"Or I could just steal you away now. Tell the Hardy Boys that I kidnapped you."

"Yeah, and Castiel will tell them that I was compromised in Texas. No... just..." You leaned forward and kissed him, licking his lips to try to get that taste in your mouth and try to keep him with you, at least in spirit.

"You are amazing." He said, as you reached for the door. "I love you, y/n."

You turned as the door opened, shocked at the declaration, but he was already gone. You looked down at your phone as it started to go off. You pulled it from your sports bra, where you'd stuffed it, and sighed as Sam's picture smiled up at you. "Yeah, Sam?"

"I need you downstairs, off the kitchen, in the pantry on the right of the Stationary Storage. Dean's been eating drugged pudding. I'm gonna track down the chef that made it, but someone needs to be with him."

"Yeah, okay. Be there soon." You turned off the call and rushed for the kitchen. You found a staircase down and followed it to a door. You turned right and headed for the pantry next to the Stationary Storage. Dean was laid out on the floor, his head resting on a bag of potatoes. "Hey, whoa. You okay?"

"y/n?" He asked, groggily. "Hey. You... hey."

"Hey, you, hey." You responded, helping him sit up.

"I smell sex." He seemed confused as he looked around the room, trying to get his bearings. You grimaced as he turned to you and sniffed the air a little. "Why do you smell like... just tell me it wasn't Sam. He's such a whiny little-"

"It's not." You cut him off. The last thing you wanted was for Sam to come back and hear Dean shit-talking him. "He's not... my type. I mean... he's nice and all, but... it's not him."

Dean nodded, still very out of it. "Good. I hear Sam's pretty good in bed, but he's whiny and needy and-"

"Dean. Stop." You said, hearing Sam approaching the door. As Sam walked into the pantry, you were very self-conscious about the smell of Crowley on you, so you backed away from Dean as Sam knelt down in front of his brother.

"They're putting supplements in the pudding." Sam pulled a can of organic energy drink out of his fanny pack and offered it to Dean, who was rubbing his head.

"What kind of supplements?"

"Here. Hey." Sam tapped the can against Dean's hand to prompt him to take it and begin drinking it. "To boost metabolism, per Larry and Maritza." Sam offered the bottle of supplements to Dean next, who took them and looked into the top of the bottle.

"These aren't 'supplements', they're roofies." Dean offered the bottle back to Sam, who just looked confused.

"What? How do you know what roofies look like?" Sam asked, taking the bottle.

"How do you _not_ know? You think I wanna end up in a hotel bathtub with my kidney carved out? In Chechnya? y/n knows what they look like, right?" Dean took a gulp of the energy drink as you gave a non-committal shrug and a nod. "Uh, did you guys find out anything in the yoga?" 

"Yeah. Yeah. Invasion of the Bodysnatchers. Every single person in class, except y/n, had one of those freaky-ass suction marks."

"Um..." You stood up a little taller and looked down at the brothers. "Are you sure I don't have a mark? Because I... I had the pudding and... I fell asleep during my treatment, but I've been told I look like I've lost weight."

Sam stood and walked over to you, motioning for you to turn around. You did and lifted your shirt. "Shit. What the hell's goin' on here?" You heard Dean say from the sack of potatoes.

"Well, we've got two sources to pull from. y/n has been through it... and Sheriff Hanscum is here." Sam let your shirt fall. "Who told you that you look like you've lost weight?"

"Get it off it, Sam. She's not interested." Dean stood, almost falling over, but catching himself and heading out of the pantry.

Sam just stood, staring at you for a moment. "You've got a new bite mark." He said, quietly. You drew your lips tightly over your teeth and resisted the urge to draw your hand to the bite. "Is he following you? That's kinda creepy. Does he know why we're here, what we do?"

"He knows I work and live with two attractive men and he worries about that. He's gone again, so, it doesn't matter." You tried to dismiss his questions and walk past him, but he grabbed your arm.

"y/n. This is a security issue. How'd he know we were at Canyon Valley? Did you tell him where we were going? Who is this guy? Does he know we're hunters?"

"Yes." You pulled away from him. "Yes, he knows about hunting. No, he doesn't care. Yes, I told him where we were going, but I didn't expect him to show up here and fuck me in a supply closet." You shrugged and turned toward the door. "And who he is, is none of your fucking business."

"Yeah, it is." Sam put his hand on the door to prevent you opening it. "If I can't trust you, we can't work together. And I can't trust you if you've told some random stalker guy you met on New Years our business, let him follow us on a fucking hunt. You can tell me why you trust this guy with information that could get us killed, _or_ you can thumb it back to the bunker, get your shit and leave."

You glared up at him, anger coursing through your veins. "Go fuck yourself. I'll be gone before you get back." You pushed him backward, taking advantage of his shock at your answer. You pulled the door open and stomped up the stairs.


	6. Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... non-con/actual for-real rape here. It was hard to write, therefore it took forever and I am soooooo sorry for that. There's a bit of Demon Dean/Reader but not enough for me to tag it. (I will be doing a one-shot of Deanmon and a reader who's modelled off of this story but it'll go as a stand-alone)

As you sped down I-35, matching the other cars' 10 over the speed limit velocity, you put your phone on speaker and dialed Crowley. Your call went to voicemail. "Okay, Crowley, you need to call me back. 'Cause I have just successfully stolen my first car and I am driving down I-35 on my way back to Kansas where I am gonna have to grab my stuff from the bunker and get out, because Sam threw a jealous little bitch fit when I refused to tell him who I've been fucking. If there were ever a time to take advantage of the perks of dating the King of Hell, it's now, because I am suddenly homeless. Call me."

You were pissed and that fire kept being fanned every time you thought about that giant of a man. If he liked you, he should have said something! Instead of acting like a child and that's what he is, a fucking child! And, you know, he didn't have a problem when you showed up with a bite mark on your neck, he thought it was funny! But, I guess that was 'cause maybe he thought you were down for kinky one-night engagements and maybe that meant something good for him and now that he knows it was something serious, that's why he flipped out on you...

You pulled off onto the shoulder and hit your hazard lights. You took a deep breath and rubbed your hand down your face. Bad idea to drive emotional. Even worse to do it in a stolen car. Your phone started ringing and you were greeted with a picture of Dean. You sighed and answered. "Yeah?"

"He kicked you out?" Dean didn't give a greeting.

"Yup. Tell him who I'm fucking or get my shit and get out."

"Not to be on his side, but... kinda suspicious that you'd rather leave than tell who is making your toes curl."

You sighed, closing your eyes. He was right and Castiel was gonna tell them, anyway, but... "It's not your business. Either of you. Sam's just upset that he missed his chance and he's throwing a fit because-"

"You're fucking with Crowley, aren't you?" He interrupted. A strange squeak escaped your throat as you literally choked on your answer. "It's a bad idea, but I could literally not care less. You're a good woman, an enthusiastic hunter and I'm pretty sure that if we kick you out, Crowley is gonna take you down a darker road than whatever you've been doing in supply closets. He _is_ a demon."

You looked down. You knew that he was dark. He wasn't all Paris weekends and bespoke dresses. He _was_ a demon, and there was a bit of fear that he'd corrupt you. But there was love there and you couldn't ignore that. "What do you want me to do, Dean?"

"I want you to tell Sam so we can move on with this shit. It's hard enough with him being a dick to me, I don't need to clean up your mess."

"My _mess_? Dude, I didn't do anything... except fuck a demon and keep it to myself." You shook your head. "Look, I'm not letting him lead me down dark paths or anything. We're just having some fun."

"Yeah, I get that. I've done some stupid things. I've done stupid things _with_ Crowley. And I get it, that you have led a sheltered life since you got married and you were pretty much  _stuck_ in the bunker with a guy who seems like excitement incarnate since your husband died, but..." There was a tangible pause. It filtered through the phone and seemed to fill the car. "Crowley is bad news. Always has been. Anything you think he's doing for you, he's doing for himself. He's manipulative and evil and he will not hesitate to remove you if you stop playing the game the way he wants it played."

You swallowed. "Dean... I know that. You think I don't know that?" You whispered. "This is a demon who knew I was attracted to him, even though I denied it to myself, who forced himself on me when I said 'no' and I liked it. Do you know how fucked up that is? He pretty much raped me and I liked it and that's the basis of our relationship."

As the silence on the other end of the phone dragged on, you regretted the words more and more. You opened your mouth several times, but no sound came out. "He raped you?" Finally came through.

"That's... not the point." You whispered. "The point is-"

"That you got off, so you think you deserve this toxic relationship with a demon?"

"No, that's the thing, it _isn't_ toxic, Dean. He's-"

"Has he started dressing you, yet?"

"What?" The question seemed out of left field. 

"Pretty dresses so that you don't look out of place beside him in his designer suits? I mean, we know he follows you. Marks up your skin so that  _every_ time you look in the mirror, you have to think about him. I'm going out on a limb to say he checks up on you, all the time, even if you don't know it, and I'd be willing to bet that he has had a  _bad_ reaction to the fact that Sam's got his little crush on you, and that bad reaction put more marks on _you,_ like it was your fault. How close am I?"

You didn't answer. You couldn't. There weren't any words. "Look, Crowley doesn't know anything about love or affection. He's a demon and he probably wasn't too good at it when he was human. What he  _does_ know is power... and control. He's an evil, manipulative piece of shit and that's not news to you. You knew that when you decided to bring him a scotch on New Year's." You closed your eyes. He was, of course, right. You'd always known exactly what Crowley was, but you'd been having such a good time with him... "So, you can break this off now before it gets too bad or you can wait until he starts snapping bones. Knowing Crowley, there won't be a big gap between that first broken arm and him snapping your neck. You can be a battered wife on Dateline or you can be J-Lo from Enough. Either way, I'm gonna be running defense for you."

Your phone was wrenched from your fingers. "How 'bout you mind your own bloody business, Winchester?! How's that sound?" You flinched as your phone crunched in Crowley's fist, easily turning into a mess of plastic, glass and wiring.  "I come to answer your call for help and I find you telling Dean bloody Winchester our _bloody_ business?! You didn't defend me against his accusations of abuse. You don't know abuse, little girl. But you will." He finished, seriously, his right hand darting out to wrap around your neck.

**********************

You woke up in a dark room. You looked around, disoriented. "You... believe him, don't you?" You realized you were handcuffed to a light fixture above a bed in a hotel. "You really think I would hurt you. How could you possibly believe that?"

With your eyes still not adjusted to the darkness, you couldn't identify where Crowley's voice was coming from. "Crowley. Please. I didn't mean to..."

"I haven't done anything." His voice was shaking and you weren't sure why, because you still couldn't see him. "All I wanted was to be with you, to be your... and then, with Dean... You betrayed me."

You closed your eyes and bit your lip. "Crowley, you followed me to that spa, which I never actually told you I'd be at, _slammed_ me into a metal supply rack, bruised... bit and insulted me, just because Sam touched me. That's not even something that was my fault, but I'm the one who got punished for it. You hurt me and it's not the first time. I'm such an idiot. Especially, because of the way we started, with you forcing yourself on me... I should have seen the red flags. I helped my friend out of an abusive relationship in high school. I'm..." You cleared your throat and opened your eyes, finally finding him sitting in the corner of the room. "If you're going to kill me, I'd appreciate you letting Dean and Sam know where to pick up my body."

"I... I could do better." He stood, walking up and sitting on the edge of the bed. "I know Dean thinks I-I can't love because I'm a demon, but... y/n, I have never felt the way I feel about you."

"You can't _feel_ anything, Crowley. The only time that was even possible was when you were-"

"Being injected with Sam's blood? I can get more." He leaned over you, his face hanging inches away from yours. "I could-please, let me fix this. I can't be without- please."

"Wait. What? I... you... you want to start injecting yourself with somebody's blood?"

"Of course I don't. I mean, but I will. I will do it if that's the only way you'll believe me. I want you. I need you. I'm almost positive I'm in love with you, but... we can't know, can we? Not without being injected with pure humanity."

You searched his face for some sign of... something, but you could only see sadness. "Okay. You... go ahead. If you still feel anything for me once you have..."

"I already did it. I already injected myself."

You nodded. "That's why you're so sad."

"I'm sad because I'm _losing_ you! I can't lose you."

You shook your head. "Crowley, you need to let me out." You yanked lightly on the cuffs. "If you can feel, then you need to work on empathy. I'm terrified right now, and if you love me, then you don't want me to feel terrified."

Crowley wiped at his eyes. "If I let you go, you'll leave. You'll go to the Winchesters and I won't... they'll never let me see you again."

"You have to let _me_ make that decision. You can't keep me against my will, Crowley."

"I can keep you until you see how much I love you. I can keep you."

You shook your head again, desperation fueling a panic in your chest. "Crowley, please. I'm... what we need, right now, the both of us, is time. We need time. You need to get yourself under control and I need..." Tears started running down your cheeks as the panic rushed across your body. "... Crowley, I need time. I need... you to listen to me." You whined.

Crowley swiped his thumbs under your eyes. "I can't let you go."

"Fine. Okay. Let me call Dean. He's gonna be worried. He's gonna be looking for me. You don't want him comin' in with blades and guns blazing, do you?"

Crowley sighed, pulling out his phone and hitting buttons before putting it up to your ear. It connected almost immediately. "Crowley, you piece of shit, where's y/n?"

"It's me, Dean."

"y/n? What the hell happened? I've been calling for hours, your phone goes straight to voicemail."

"It... uh, it got broken. I just wanted to... wanted you to know that I'm okay."

"Yeah, I don't buy that for a second, sweetheart. Where are you?"

You hesitated, throwing a look to Crowley. He was unstable. You wanted to give him the benefit of a doubt, but he was unpredictable on a good day and this was _not_ a good day. "I don't know." You whispered.

"You being held?"

"Yeah. Look... I... Dean, I'm okay."

"For now. We're gonna find you, make sure you stay that way."

"We, who? Sam, who sent me away? Or, Castiel, who threatened to _remove_ me for being compromised when I got back from Texas? Dean... I don't know where this Westin is, but I am fine." You answered, slipping in the name of the hotel, which you saw on the phone on the nightstand.

Crowley pulled the phone away and put it to his ear. "She's fine. We're having a domestic issue, but it's none of yore bloody business, Dean. Fuck off." 

"Crowley, it's my business because she's my business. I'm the one who brought her into the bunker and made her spend time with you. Where the fuck is she?"

Crowley didn't answer, simply shutting off the phone and tossing it at the chair he'd been sitting in. "Stupid Winchester. You're not his, you're mine." He climbed up your body, laying himself over you. You stiffened, closing your eyes and trying to keep yourself from shivering. "I'm going to make you love me." He whispered, kissing your jawline and cheek. 

Your teeth chattered against each other as his hands roamed under your shirt and across your nipples. "Crowley, please, don't do this." You whimpered.

"You're going to love me."

"Not like this."

"Just like the first time."

"You gave me a choice, eventually, remember? I don't want..."

"I don't care!" He sat up, grabbing the collar of your shirt and ripping your shirt down the middle. "You chose and you chose me and I'm gonna make you choose me again." Your bra was next to be ripped to pieces. You swallowed and shook your head. When his fingers entered you, for the first time it actually hurt. You weren't wet and, as his rough fingers assaulted you, there was no doubt in your mind that you were being raped. There was no grey area, no dubious consent given, just assault. You closed your eyes and tried not to cry, all the while your head, on repeat, thought _*It's all my fault. I'm so stupid.*_

~~~~~~~~~~~

You were alone when you woke up, still exhausted and in an exorbitant amount of pain. You looked around, making sure he wasn't hiding in a corner before standing on the bed, grasping the light fixture and pulling on it. It barely moved, so you put your foot against the wall for better leverage and yanked several times. You crashed to the bed as the light pulled from the wall. You rushed to the closet, grabbing a robe to cover your tattered clothing. you got several weird looks as you ran down the hotel halls, but no one spoke to you. You discovered that you were in Wichita as you exited the Westin. You weren't happy to be barefoot on the sidewalk of a city, but you recognized the area. The New Year's party had been held 2 blocks away. You'd seen a payphone when you drove through and you were praying it still had service. You sent a 'Thank You' to God as it connected and AT&T set up a collect call to Dean's cell.

"Dean, I escaped."

He accept the charges and it clicked as the call connected. "y/n! Where are you?"

"Wichita. There's a BigGerson's on Tupelo Drive. That's where I'll be. Please, hurry. I don't know how long he'll be gone and I know he'll come find me when-"

"I'm workin' a hex bag to hide you. Sammy, Wichita. Hit the next exit. We'll be there in 2 hours. Are you okay?"

"No. I'm not. I... need a drink and so many painkillers, and shoes and clothes. Hurry, Dean. Please."

"We'll be there as soon as possible, y/n. Hold on."

No one mentioned your attire at BigGerson's, either, except one server who mutter about 'No Shoes, No Shirt, No Service'. You glared her, said you'd be loitering for an hour or two until your wallet and a change of clothes showed up, and shoo'd her away. Dean and Sam screeched into the parking lot an hour and twenty minutes after you got there. Dean handed you a bag and you walked, wordlessly, to the bathroom. You dressed slowly, dropping your tattered shreds of cloth into the trash can when you were dressed. You were glad you'd left behind your jeans and tee at the spa instead of the yoga outfit. You were much happier in the thicker, baggy clothes.

The waitress was trying to flirt with Dean, but he dismissed her as soon as you walked up. "You wearin' that hex bag?"

"It's in my pocket."

Sam looked down, guiltily. "I'm sorry I kicked you out. I-"

"I should've just been honest. This is all _my_  fault, really."

"Shut up. This is all Crowley's fault and don't pretend you don't know that. Also, if _Sam_  had just owned up to his feelings last _year_ , maybe you wouldn't have been so susceptible to Crowley's bullshit." Dean sighed. "So, what's the plan here, y/n? You comin' back with us, or what?"

You shook your head. "No. I need time. I appreciate everyth-everything you've done for me. Everything you taught me, but I gotta... gotta do some solo, okay?"

"Yeah, okay, but if you're gonna be hunting, you avoid anything that even _smells_  like a demon, and you call us if you get in over your head." Dean demanded as the server came over with 3 coffees.

"Of course, Dean."

"And we're buying you lunch and pie before you get on the road." Dean finished, tossing a menu down in front of you.

"I just want a cheeseburger, is all." You said, handing the menu to the waitress. After food, Sam and Dean found a car for you and hotwired it. You hugged Dean and nodded at Sam before getting in the car and driving away. You had no plan to call on them, no plan to call on anyone. You'd survived torture and you could survive what Crowley did to you, and you would, but not with anyone else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn't hear from them for months and that was by design. You memorized their numbers, had them in your phone just in case, but you never gave them your new number and you never called them. So when Dean showed up at your motel room door, you were shocked. "How'd you find me?" You asked, stepping out of the way so that he could walk into the room.

"'Cecilia Woloch'? Gypsy writer and poet from Kentucky. Come on. I sniped that ID as you as soon as I heard it." He dropped onto the bed and looked up at you as you closed the door and leaned against it. "You look pretty good. You doin' all right?"

You nodded. "I've been... yeah, I've been doing okay. How's Sam a-and how are you?"

"I'm great. I'm better than I've been in... fuckin' years. I am actually fuckin' happy." 

Something in his tone made you swallow, nervously. Something predatory in how he looked up at you. "Happy?"

He smirked and it made you shiver. "I'm free, for the first time in my life. I got no regrets, no pressure, no god _damn_ responsibilities. Weight of the world finally off of my shoulders. You wanna know how I managed it?"

"You're makin' me nervous, Dean."

"Oh, man. _I_  make you nervous? Shit, I'm not tryin' to. You know, it must be the Mark. I'm sorry, y/n." He said, his voice softening but his eyes retaining their predatory edge. "Kinda crazy, though, that _I_  make you nervous when _Crowley_  didn't."

"He always made me nervous." You shook your head. "Why are you here, Dean?" 

"Oh, I promised somebody I'd track you down. I really was plannin' to just text him your 20 but... you know, lookin' at you, I kinda think I wanna play first." 

Your mind flashed back to the time Crowley cornered you in the Plainview motel and your breath caught. "Dean... I'm not in the mood for games."

He seemed to completely ignore you. "You know, Sam had that crush on you and then Crowley started talkin' 'bout all the things he wanted to do to you, things you _let_ him do, but I just never saw you like that." He stood, towering over you. "Maybe it was 'cause of all the weight attached to you. I'm talkin' responsibility, not fat. I always thought you were gorgeous, but ever since we saved you from that demon wearing your husband, it was on us to keep you safe, to teach you how to hunt, to save you from your own dumb-ass decisions. I mean, gotta admit, you were a bit of a burden, y/n. But now that I don't give a shit about my responsibilities, I can totally see what they saw in you. Think I'd like to take you for a ride, myself." He placed his hands on the wall, caging you in.

You didn't panic. You'd rehearsed this. A different aggressor was in your mind during the planning, but you were sure that wouldn't matter as you stuck your left hand in the front pocket of your jeans and your right into your back pocket. A handful of salt hit Dean's face and the sudden flash of black in his eyes was enough to inform your next action, flipping the lid off of the flask from your back pocket and splashing him with Holy Water. He stumbled backward slightly, smoke rising up from his skin. But all too quickly he was in front of your, grabbing your collar, his eyes like dark inkwells. "That stung, y/n. Not very nice, sweetheart."

"Demon scum." You spat in his face and he smirked as he ripped your shirt off in one scary yank and used it to wipe your saliva off of his cheek. When he tossed your shirt to the floor, his eyes slipped back into green.

"Damn. Who knew you were so fuckin' feisty?" He grabbed a handful of your hair and exposed your neck to him. "Well, Crowley, obviously. Must be why he's so bent on finding you. I'm sure he won't mind sharing."

"Not happening, Winchester. Thank you for finding her. I'll get you something fun to play with later." Crowley suddenly appeared behind Dean, who slipped behind you and wrapped his arms around you, his fingers sliding just under the wire of your bra.

"I got something fun to play with, right here."

"No. She's _mine_."

"Come on. We could take her together. I'll even let you have first pick on holes. She seems like she'd be great no matter which-"

"Your King said 'no'." Crowley said, forcefully.

Dean gave off an amused noise. "You also said we'd do anything I want and I _want_  to fuck y/n 'til she can't move."

"I said that and we've done what you want all _bloody_  Summer. Let me have one bloody thing that's mine, Winchester!"

There was a long, tense moment of silence as Dean seemed to contemplate doing what he wanted, anyway, the fingers of his right hand slipping further up inside your bra to twist your nipple to the point of pain. You took a deep breath and tried to dissociate from the pain as he twisted harder.

"Fine. I'm gonna grab a burger, then I'm going back to the bar, see if I can get a second go with that waitress." Dean sniffed your hair deeply, before releasing his hold on you and swiftly disappearing through the motel room door.

You faced Crowley with a fighting stance. You had no chance, but you were going to fight, anyway. He presented you a piece of paper, which confused you. You just stared at it. "This is the address of the bar Dean and I have been at. Call Moose and tell him."

"What? You do it."

"He'll think it's a trap if I call."

"And what am I supposed to think?" You asked, crossing your arms over your bra. "You have a demon in Dean."

"No, that's him. It's Dean. Metatron killed him. The Mark of Cain brought him back."

"As a demon?"

"As a Knight of Hell."

You shook your head, slightly. "And why do _you_  want Sam to know where to pick up his brother?"

"Because he's out of control! He won't listen to a word I say. All he wants to do is drink and fuck and fight and sing Right Said Fred to a bar full of people who'd rather he shut the fuck up. You just saw how bloody obstinate he is. I need him gone." He snapped his fingers and handed you a black tank top. "Last time I had a Knight of Hell questioning my authority, I almost lost my throne; I had to trick Dean into getting the Mark of Cain to get rid of 'er."

"You expect me to help save your throne? Are you-"

"I expect you to help Sam save his brother. He's got the cure, remember?"

You gasped. "The blood."

"Exactly. Now, I know you hate me. You've every right to, but Dean can be saved. Shouldn't he have the opportunity?" Crowley disappeared, the paper landing on the floor at your feet. 

You picked up the paper and pulled your phone from your left back pocket. "I hear you're searching for Dean."

"y/n? Yeah, I am. Have you seen him?"

"Up close and _way_  too personal. I'll text you the-"

"Did he hurt you?" Sam's voice was distraught.

"I'm fine." You rubbed your palm across your nipple in an attempt to soothe it as you pulled the tank top over your head. "Just tell me you've got the demon purification ritual ready."

"Oh, so you know he's-"

"I'm pretty vigilant about demons, Sam. Now, do you need anything for the ritual?"

"A bit of support would be nice. Cas isn't doing so good, so if you're in the vicinity..."

"I'll be there. You pick him up. I'll meet you at the bunker... once you've got him chained up, you know?"

"Okay. Good. It'll be good to have you back, y/n." Sam said. You just shut off the phone. You would help Sam save Dean, then you'd disappear again. Solo hunting was less dangerous than life with the Winchesters. You could handle anything, except what seemed to follow them. 


End file.
